


If I Can Do It

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gore, Substance Abuse, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16989735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: You’re in an established relationship with Sam but you have been hiding the fact you have a substance abuse problem. During a shifter case, the truth comes out and it puts you in a dangerous position.





	If I Can Do It

You spent the morning in the bathroom. The boys thought you were getting ready and getting prettied up in your FBI costume. In reality, you were hunched over the toilet, wrenching until your stomach was empty. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much left inside of you. So, you were left with painful dry heaving. 

You splash some cold water on your face, rinse out your mouth, and steel yourself before slipping out of the washroom. 

“Are you alright, babe? It sounded like you were being sick.” The concern in Sam’s voice tears you in two. 

You push him back so he’ll keep his distance. “I’m fine. It’s probably something I ate. More than likely, it was that sketchy taco stand Dean took us to last night,” you deflect.

“Hey! Don’t blame the tacos!” Dean shouts from where he is cleaning his gun at the table. 

“Oh yeah, because funky tacos have never killed anyone before,” you retort with a raised eyebrow.

“Shut up,” is Dean’s mature response. 

“I told you not to go there. Why are you two always eating that crap?” Sam says with exacerbation. “I don’t like it when my girl gets sick. Because then I can’t do this,” he says as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“Dude, gross! She’s got barf breath!” Dean interrupts the kiss.

“I brushed my teeth, you jackass,” you respond to Dean as you let Sam’s arms wrap around you. Normally, Sam’s embrace is all you would need to make you feel better. But there is a dull ache in your muscles and cold creeping into your bones that even Sam cannot fix. There is only one thing that can set you straight. Unfortunately, you ran out of what you need. 

You cling to Sam, wishing he was enough to make you feel better. But, you know he isn’t. 

* * *

“The vic is being discharged this afternoon, so we have to hurry,” Sam says as he gets into Baby’s passenger seat.

You slip into the backseat and relish the feeling of her sun heated leather. All morning you’ve had this unshakable chill keeping you on edge. Dean drops you two off at the hospital while he goes to check out where the victim worked, where she was attacked. The ride to the hospital was short but you had to stay in the waiting room until the doctors cleared you to go in. 

You were sitting next to Sam, he had given you his jacket because of your incessant shivering. It swallowed you whole and smelled like him. That alone, usually makes you feel warm inside, but not today. Your legs are bouncing on their own accord. It must have been driving Sam nuts because he hooks an arm around the back of your knees and pulls your legs onto his lap. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You seem a little restless,” he asks as he holds your legs against him. 

You’re about to come up with an excuse. But before you can say anything, the victim’s doctor comes running into the room. 

“Agents! You have to come quick! Ms. Farris, she’s… she’s been killed!” The panic in the doctor’s voice signals that this type of death is far beyond what he is used to seeing. 

You and Sam spring from your seats and rush toward the newly deceased victim’s room. The sudden movement is a bit jarring and you feel a wave of dizziness take you over. You only give yourself a moment to regain your stability. Then, you run to follow close behind Sam. 

The room is covered in blood as Ms. Farris had her throat slit wide open. 

Sam could sense that this scene was a little too much for the good doctor. So, he instructs the MD to go find security and get the surveillance footage they have for the floor. 

When you two are alone, the real work can begin. 

“Why would he come back for her? It’s not like she could identify him. He’s a shifter, all he has to do is shift into someone else to avoid getting caught.” You think out loud to distract yourself from your aching muscles. 

“It could be personal. I mean we thought this shifter is aimlessly targeting people. But, what if he’s not just out to cause random harm? What if he wants these  _ specific people _ dead? Why else would he risk killing someone in a hospital in broad daylight?” Sam continues your train of thought for you.

You look around the room for anything that may have been left behind by the shifter. Instead, you find something much more interesting. You look over your shoulder at Sam who is closely inspecting the victim’s wound. With him distracted, you look over to where Ms. Farris had packed up her things for her discharge. She had an overnight bag with a change of clothes. But more importantly, the doctor had filled her prescriptions. A series of beautiful orange bottles were lined up neatly on the table. 

You look over each one. Most were antibiotics. But then, a wave of relief washes through you as you reach for your prize. Vicodin. Of course, you would have taken any pain meds she had, but Vicodin has always been your treat of choice. 

You stuff the pill bottle into Sam’s jacket pocket that you are still wearing. You excuse yourself to the ensuite washroom and open your present. The prescription is full and untouched. You take two because you have gone so long without a fix and you need a stronger dose to get you back to normal. You feel instant relief. Chemically, you know that the drugs don’t work that fast. But psychologically, you feel instantaneously satisfied and safe. 

You put the bottle back into Sam’s pocket and leave the bathroom almost a completely different person. You know the drugs will  _ really kick _ in soon. That gives you a confidence and kind of euphoric pep in your step that cannot be ignored.

It never occurred to you that you had stolen pills from a dead woman who was still bleeding out on her hospital bed. The only thing you care about is the warm that is seeping its way back into your bones. You are feeling like yourself again. 

As you and Sam leave the hospital, before the real cops show up, you throw him back his jacket. Your body is returning to normal and you no longer feel that relentless shiver.

* * *

After dinner, you and boys are discussing the victims and who may be at the center of their connection. Your head feels clear and you are finally able to engage with the moment. You have the security of knowing where your next dose is coming from, so your mind can focus on other things.

Sam gets up from his place at the table and moves over to the bed.  He clears off the clutter so he can get some shut eye. He is talking to Dean, so his attention is not fully focused on his actions. He reaches down to pick up his jacket but it slips out of his hand. Instead of a light and feathery sound when it hits the floor, the jacket actually rattles. While your eyes widen, his narrow with curiosity. 

You raise from your spot to pick up the jacket for him. But, it’s too late. He has dug through the pockets and found your bottle of Vicodin. 

“What the hell is this? Where did this come from?” he asks looking between you and Dean. 

Dean shrugs and returns his attention to his beer. You’re standing there utterly frozen as your brain scrambles to come up with an excuse. Sam looks at the label and notices the victim’s name on the prescription. He glares back up at you with a look you can’t quite read. 

“Okay, yes. I took a dead woman’s pills,” you state the unavoidable facts before coming up with an explanation. “But, she wasn’t going to use them and we might need them. You know, we get hurt a lot on hunts and pain meds may come in handy!” you formulate your lie as you speak. 

“Way to think ahead!” Dean chimes in, clearly buying into your fib.

“Dude, no! She stole from our victim while her body was still warm. That’s a little fucked up,” Sam says, a little less inclined to accept your excuse. 

“Look I know, I’m sorry! But, do you remember that hunt out in Wichita last year? The one where I got hurt so badly you two had to break into a pharmacy to get me pain meds. You guys could have gotten in deep shit and I don’t want you to have to do that again. I want to be prepared.” The lies just keep coming. 

“Relax, Sammy. The girl did good. Besides, no one will be missing them,” Dean cuts in. 

You can see the hesitation in Sam’s eyes. The way he is looking at you, you can tell he is trying to read you. His suspicion is clear but he ultimately relents. 

“Alright… I guess. Just don’t do that again.” He gives in. You nod feverishly and reach for the bottle but Sam pulls it away from you. “I’ll keep them with the first aid kit. You go get ready for bed. I know you weren’t feeling well this morning and you should get some rest,” Sam informs you with a flatness to his tone. 

You smile up at him then lean on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek before slipping into the washroom. When you return, you notice the first is kit sitting on the table. 

Dean starts packing up his stuff. “Alright kiddos, I’ll see you in the morning. But remember, these walls are thin and I need my beauty rest. So, try and keep it down this time,” Dean teases before leaving to go to his room, leaving you and Sam alone. 

You crawl into bed and Sam gets in beside you. He doesn’t hold you or kiss you goodnight like you expected. You roll over to find he has his back turned to you. You reach for his shoulder but he refuses to face you. “Got to sleep, Y/N,” he mumbles out in a tired tone. 

You pull away. “Okay, goodnight. I love you.”

You get no reply. 

A few hours later, you are still lying there awake. Normally, you would be ruminating over Sam’s dismissing behaviour. But tonight, the only thing keeping you up is the call from the first aid kit on the table. 

“Sam?” you whisper. You repeat his name again to double check that he is still asleep. When the coast proves to be clear, you slip out of bed and pad over to the table. You filter through the box but cannot find your pill bottle. Suddenly, the light beside the bed switches on and Sam is sitting up straight. 

“I knew it,” he says in a defeated tone.

You pull your searching hands away from the table. “Oh, I was just-”

“I know exactly what you were doing,” Sam interrupts you. “You were looking for this,” he says as he opens the night stand and pulls out the orange bottle you were desperately searching for. 

“What? No! No, I was looking for-” but before you can come up with something, Sam jumps from the bed and strides over to you. 

His large frame looms over you and he grabs you by the shoulders. “Enough! Enough lies, Y/N! Do you really think I’m stupid?”

“No, of course not! I was just-” you are cut off when Sam squeezes your shoulders a little too tightly and his eyes shut with frustration. 

“I swear to god! If I hear one more bullshit excuse, I will lose it!” he warns you.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say, hoping it won’t set him off.

“Yeah, so am I. I thought we were done with this shit! You said you stopped. How long has this been going on again?”

“I never actually did stop. After that hunt in Wichita… I know you know that I got a little carried away with the pain meds I was taking,”

“Yeah, but we weaned you off them!” Sam recalls. “Everything was fine! You were fine.”

“I just got better at hiding it,” you decide to try your luck at honesty for once. 

Sam pulls away from you and looks down at the pills in his hand. Suddenly filled with rage, he throws the bottle against the kitchenette sink and the pills clatter down the drain. 

You scream in protest. “No! What hell did you do that for!” you scream at Sam as you push on his chest. You rush over to the skin and see that every last one is gone. “You asshole! I needed those!”

“No, you don’t!” Sam informs you.

“How would you know what I need? You don’t know what this feels like!”

“The hell I don’t!” Sam replies with great anger. He moves toward you again and you feel small under his gaze. 

You suddenly remember his own addiction to demon blood. You had forgotten. For the past year, you have been too wrapped up in your own mind to realize that you may have more in common with your boyfriend than you originally thought. 

“That’s different!” you say unwilling to give in. Despite his ability to understand you, you still cannot forgive him for throwing away your safety net. Besides, you wouldn’t even classify your prescription usage as a  _ real addiction _ . It is more of a habit. 

“How?” Sam keeps pushing you. He knows that if you’re forced to think about it, you will find no logical excuse. 

“It just is!” you groan in frustration. “Just get the hell out of here! Go stay with Dean for the night,” you scream at Sam. You’re not in the mood to play his game. Your skin is starting to itch. Your cravings are kicking in sooner than expected due to the stress. You want him gone before you say something you’ll regret. 

“I can help you! I’ve been there! We can work through this, I can help get you clean. Hell, if I can do it, anyone can… especially you!” Sam reasons with desperation in his voice.

You look up at him with disbelief. He must be the high one if he thinks you can do this. You are not as strong as Sam and never have been. He overcame a supernatural addiction that changed his very essence. You can’t even shake the urge to take a measly pill. You know you are weak and Sam’s faith in you is unfounded. It’d be better if he just gave up now. You’ll only drag him down. 

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. The only thing you can do for me, is to get the hell out of here!” you roar.

Sam doesn’t back down. “You think this has been easy for me? I’ve watched you these past few days getting worse and worse and I didn’t know how to help you! All I wanted was to fix you but I didn’t know what was wrong because you never fucking talk to me!”

“You can’t fix me! The only thing that could have helped me, you just threw it down the drain!”

Sam ignores you and continues on with his train of thought. He tries to speak more calmly, hoping to keep the situation somewhat under control. “I knew something was off. But it wasn’t until I saw your face when I found your stash, did I put two and two together. From one addict to another, you have to let me in! I can help you!”

“I am not an addict!”

“The hell you aren’t! You stole pills from a dead woman!”

You can only gape at him in response. Sam reaches out for you but you push him away. “I’m only going to tell you one more time, get out!” you speak lowly. 

“I’m not leaving,” Sam stands his ground.

“Fine! Then I’ll go!” You turn to walk toward the door but Sam grabs your arm. 

“You’re not going anywhere!” 

You push him off you. “I’m not your problem to fix!” you spit out as you reach for the door and leave. 

* * *

You didn’t think this through. You are walking around the neighbourhood of the motel in nothing but sleep shorts and a tank top. You know you probably look as dishevelled as you feel. But you don’t care. You have just fucked up the best thing that has ever happened to you. But instead of going back to fix what you broke, you’re scouring the streets for someone who may be able to help you get what you really need. 

“Hey there, pretty girl,” a voice coos from behind you. You turn around to see a tall man getting out of his car. You are about to keep walking when he speaks again. “Looking for something?”

You look over the well-dressed man who is sporting a knowing smile. “Nothing you have to give.” You’ve dealt with his type before. You’re not in the mood for games.

“You sure about that?” he says as he looks around the empty street. He sticks a hand into his pocket and pulls out a baggy filled with white pills. “A girl doesn’t come to this part of town, at this time of night, in nothing but her PJs… unless she’s looking for something special. So, tell me princess, still think there’s nothing I can do for you?”

The man walks around to the other side of his car and opens the passenger door. He doesn’t stand waiting for long. You wish you could say you had more sense. You wish you could say that you weren’t desperate enough to get into a car with a strange man. But, you passed desperation three exits ago. Your mind is a muddled mess of need combined with images of Sam’s disappointed face. You want to forget. So, you get in the car. 

* * *

“Dean, wake up!” Sam says bursting through his brother’s door. 

Dean shoots up and grabs the gun from under his pillow. “What the hell, Sam?” he groans when he sees there is no immediate danger. 

“She’s gone! She left and I just let her go!” Sam chastises himself as he throws a pair of pants and some shoes at his brother so he can get dressed. 

“What the hell happened? Why did she just take off?” Dean asks as he gets himself ready.

Sam tells his brother everything. He tells him about the pills, the fight, and how you left without your phone, money, or even shoes.

“Look, she couldn’t have gotten far,” Dean tries to comfort his brother. “She probably went out looking for something to take the edge off. And, in this part of town, she wouldn’t have had to go very far. We’ll find her!”

* * *

Your new friend pulls into a secluded parking lot.

“As I already told you when I got in the car, I have no money on me. And, I’m not sleeping with you. So, if that’s what you were hoping for in exchange for the drugs you're sadly mistaken. I have a boyfriend and I haven’t hit that rock bottom yet.”

“Relax, princess. I have no interest in money. Plus, sexual exploitation isn’t really my thing.” He pulls out the baggy again and dangles it in front of you. “Let’s just say in exchange for this, you’ll owe me a favour.”

“What kind of favour?” you say as you tear your eyes away from what you need to look at him directly. 

“I know who you are. I saw you with  _ the Sam _ Winchester at the hospital. You two looked… cozy.” 

You instantly pull on the door handle but it doesn’t budge. He has locked you in. 

“So, you’re the shifter?” you ask as you steel your voice and push down your fear. 

The man smiles and nods his response. “I know what you stole form that bitch Farris’ room. I was still there. Watching. I needed to make sure you two were who I thought you were. The Winchesters are unmistakable, but I wasn’t expecting you. I didn’t know they had taken in a pet.”

“I’m not their pet!” you bite out. You have always hated how everyone sees you as the loser third wheel to the Winchesters. 

“Whatever,” he dismisses you. “See, I think we can help each other out. I have what you need,” he says as he opens his baggy. “And, you have something I need.”

“What’s that?” 

“Access.”

“You’re a shifter. You can be anyone, you have access to everything! What could you possibly need  _ me  _ to get access to?”

“The Winchesters. They’ll be able to sniff out a fake version of you from a mile away. They’ll kill me if I even try to get close. But, they’ll never see you coming.”

You genuinely laugh in his face. “You honestly think you can get me to turn on them?” Your laughing almost causes tears to come to your eyes. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” 

The anger rises in the creature next to you. “I think you’re missing the point here, princess! Like you said, I have access to everything. I can provide you with a lifetime supply of whatever drug your little junkie heart desires. You’ll never want for anything. You need me.”

Your laughing dies down. You’re starting to see your problem for what it is. Your weakness is so evident to everyone except for you. Even monsters are willing to exploit it to hurt the Winchesters, your family. You have a clear enough mind right now to refuse. But, what will happen when your deep in the throes of withdrawal? Maybe you are the addict Sam and this shifter think you are. You see it clearly now. This means, you also see clearly what you have to do to keep your family safe, safe from you. 

“You’re right. I do need you. But, I don’t want you or anything you have to offer me. You might as well just kill me because I will never do what you want me to do.”

The shifter sighs in defeat. “I figured you would say something like that. Luckily, I have a plan B.” The shifter lunges for you and grabs you by the neck. “Hopefully, when the Winchesters find your bruised and bloodied corpse, it will throw them off their game long enough for me to swoop in. I’ll take them out before they suspect a thing. Grief has a tendency to cloud their judgement,” the shifter says as his fingers tighten over you.

You claw at his face but he uses his free hand to crack one of your ribs with the force of his fist. You attempt to scream in pain but his grip over you, blocks your words. 

You clutch at his wrist and try to pull him away in vain. Your muscles weaken and your hand slips down. You then feel your necklace that is pressed against your chest. With your last bout of strength, you pull the chain off your neck. You shove the silver heart-shaped pendant into the shifter’s eye. 

Smoke emanates from his socket as you hold the silver against him. He shrieks in pain and pulls off of you. Instead of stopping to catch your breath, you climb over him and unlock the door. You stumble out of the car, panting for air. Your ribs pang with every breath but you have to keep moving. On wobbly feet, you hurry to put as much distance between you and the creature as possible. 

You hear the shifter get out of his car and scream after you. You are still coughing and sputtering for air but you pick up your pace when you see him coming after you again. You hear the familiar rumble of an old engine. But, before you see what direction the car is coming from, you are tackled to the ground.

The shifter rolls you onto your back and straddles your waist. 

“I’ve got a better idea!” he growls at you. You shriek when you see his eye is a nearly melted down his face. He pulls out the baggy full of drugs and squeezed your chin so tightly you have no choice but to open your mouth. “I’m gonna pump you full of drugs and leave you here to rot. The Winchesters will think their little junkie bitch sidekick ODed all on her own. They’ll never know I was here. They’ll think you took your own pathetic little life,” he says as he pours a few pills into your mouth. He covers your nose and mouth in an attempt to force you to swallow the pills. “Then they’ll know just how weak you really are!”

You want to refuse but your body reflexively complies. Once he thinks your mouth is clear and you’re ready for more, he reopens your mouth and force feeds you more pills. Luckily, before he has a chance to make you swallow again, two shots ring out. Your attacker’s shirt starts turning red. You hear frantic footsteps running toward you and a familiar voice calling your name. 

You push the limp shifter off of you, and crawl onto your stomach. You spit out the pills he had just given you.  You then stick your fingers down your throat to expel the ones he had already forced down your dry throat. 

You feel a comforting hand rub your back as you empty the contents of your stomach. When you finish, Sam pulls your shaking body into his lap and he holds you while you let your tears fall freely. 

“I’m sorry!” you repeat your apology a thousand times over through your sobs. But, Sam only holds you tighter and shushes you softly. You cling to his shirt in a silent plea for forgiveness. You know you don’t deserve him but right now you need him. 

Sam kisses your forehead and forces you to look up at him. The idea of looking him in the eye after everything you’ve said and done, is even more terrifying than the shifter forcing your weakness down your throat. But, when you meet his gaze you find no disappointment, no anger, no contempt. You only find concern and a kind of warmth that instantly settles your heavy breathing. 

“Let me get you back to the motel. We’ll work this out. We can get through this,” Sam repeats the same offer he gave you earlier in the night. Only now, you are ready to hear it, you are ready to accept it. “I’ve been where you are, Y/N. You can do this but you don’t have to do it alone. We can do this, together.”

“You don’t deserve this. You don’t need any more broken parts in your life,” you reply honestly. Your voice is shaky but your words hold true. 

Sam only laughs at you. “Do you know who you’re talking to, kid?” Sam says lightly as if you’re missing a punchline. “We’re all made up of broken pieces. You, me, Dean? That’s why we fit so well together.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. You have looked up to the brothers for years. You tried hiding your darkness so you could fit into their lives and not cause needless trouble. But, you now realize that to really be a Winchester, you have to face your weaknesses head on and overcome it. You can’t run anymore. You’ll make mistakes and slip up but that’s also the Winchester way. In the security of Sam’s embrace, you know that you will have support and love to help you through your upcoming hell. 

“I want to be better for you… and for me.” You never want another creature to try and use you against the man you love again. You couldn’t live with yourself. 

As you bury your head into Sam’s chest, you finally realize Dean has been here the whole time. “Are you two done! We have to go! If someone heard the shots and called the police, we shouldn’t be sitting around having a cuddle fest next to the dead guy!” Dean interrupts your moment. 

You slide of Sam’s lap and he helps you up off the ground. The stress of what just happened combined with your creeping withdrawal, makes your head a little dizzy. You instantly regret throwing up all the pills you were force fed. But, you know it’s for the best. Sam supports your weight as he all but carries you to the car. Dean handles the body of the shifter. 

You sit on Sam’s lap in the front seat and wait for Dean to put the body in the trunk.

“Jeez, Y/N! What the hell did you do to that guy’s eye?” Dean asks with a look of disgust on his face as he revs the engine. 

You instantly panic. “My necklace!” you clutch your bruising throat where you necklace used to be. It was a gift from Sam when you first started dating. Given the circumstances, you know it’s silly to worry about it but you’ve always been sentimental. That monster ruined it with his eye goo and you left it back in his car.

Sam chuckles at you. “It’s fine. You were due for an upgrade anyway. Once we get you better, we’ll go out and get you something new.” He nuzzles into your ear and whispers so only you can hear him. “Maybe I’ll get you a ring this time.”

  
  



End file.
